Surrender the Dawn (38 page)

“And for friends who need your help,” Biron added, a twinkle in his eye.

“Aye, which is why I’m here dressed like a stuffed pig and feeling like a fool.” Luke sipped his drink again, noting the wine was getting quite low. He would need a refill soon if he was going to endure this night.

“It feels indecent to be here amongst all this luxury,” he said. “Enjoying my wine, when John is no doubt huddling belowdecks, lonely and hungry, aboard that frigate.”

“Aye, Captain, but there’s naught to be done about it now. It’s better to be here helping your friends than sitting in some tavern, flooding your belly with rum and losing what’s left of your money.” Biron’s eyes lit up. “Besides, the scenery here is much more appealing.”

Luke huffed. Perhaps his friend was right.

The quadrille ended, and the couples bowed and curtseyed to each other as they moved from the dance floor. Several ladies peered at him above silk fans.

“Ah, to be young and as handsome as you are, Captain.” Biron dipped his head toward the giggling ladies, shocking Luke.

“I’ve never known you to desire the company of the softer gender.”

“In truth, after my wife died, I had no interest, but the older I get, the more I’m findin’ the need for companionship. God said it isn’t good for man to be alone. And I do believe He was right.”

“So,
that
explains why you came tonight.”

“Aye, look at all the sweet angels floating about the room.”

Luke chuckled as his eyes landed on Mr. Keene, dressed in his usual pomp, at the edge of the dance floor, kissing the hand of a young lady who seemed barely old enough to be out in society. She tugged her hand from his grip, her eyes pools of pain and betrayal, before she clutched her gown and flew away like a wounded bird.

Instead of following her to make amends for whatever caused her distress, Mr. Keene immediately veered his gaze to another lady standing off to his side and shrugged. The woman laughed and gave him a coy come-hither glance. Which the man immediately obliged. After a few seconds, in which it appeared the lady scribbled Mr. Keene’s name on her dance card, he turned, spotted Luke and Biron, and headed their way.

“What was all that about?” Luke asked.

Mr. Keene raised his eyebrows in innocence. Luke pointed with his drink to the door on the far side of the room where he’d seen the troubled lady exit. “That young woman. She seemed vexed.”

Mr. Keene clasped his hands behind his back. “Ah yes, Miss Melody. She was under the mistaken impression that we were courting.” He chuckled.

Biron scratched his head. “Hmm. I wonder how she came to that conclusion.”

“I have no idea. You know how women can be.” Mr. Keene gave a sensuous smile to a passing lady, who returned it with a wave of her fan. “I suppose I called on her on a few occasions.”

“Just called on her?” Luke asked.

“I suppose I may have kissed her once or twice.” Mr. Keene rubbed his jaw. The jewel on his finger winked at Luke from within the lacy folds of his cuff.

Luke shook his head, finding it difficult to contain his anger. “To a proper lady, a kiss is nearly equal to a proposal of marriage.” But guilt tightened his gut at the thought of the kisses he’d shared with Miss Channing. How was he any different from Mr. Keene?

Mr. Keene looked incredulous. “You can’t possibly think I could limit myself to a single lady when there are so many delectably ripe fruits from which to pick?” He waved a hand over the crowd, and his gaze froze on a particularly succulent fruit smiling at him from the corner. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” And off he went in a flourish of satin.

Luke followed him with an angry gaze, remembering the look of agony in the woman’s eyes moments ago.

Biron crossed his arms over his chest. “A dangerous man, that one. At least to the ladies. And he’s a mite old to be playing such games.”

Luke nodded. At one and forty, the man still presented a handsome figure. Yet his age gave the incorrect impression of maturity and stability. “He should take care with the sentiments of others.”

“In truth, he reminds me a bit of you, Captain.”

“Me?” Luke said. “Bite your tongue, man.”

“How many hearts have you broken in this town?”

Biron’s words struck Luke like a frigid wind. He could always count on the blunt assessment of his friend. Yet, in truth, Luke had never actually considered it. Hadn’t he spent his life flitting from woman to
woman, never landing on one long enough to form an attachment? Suddenly, dozens of tear-filled eyes—just like the eyes he’d seen on that young lady—paraded across his vision.

At the time he had brushed them off as overemotional females. Now, he understood their pain—felt it himself down to his core. Shame soured in his stomach. In fifteen years, would Luke end up like Mr. Keene, a flashy, pretentious philanderer whose only skills included cards, drink, and meaningless trysts with wanton women? At six and twenty, he was well on his way. Or he
had
been until Miss Channing had given him a chance to better himself. Until she had given him the desire to be a better man.

“I’m not like that anymore,” he announced, raising his empty glass with a frown.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Biron gave him a knowing look before his eyes latched onto an elderly woman standing beside a much younger one at the edge of the dance floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I see the lady I’ve been looking for.”

Luke watched as his old friend wove his way through the crowd to stand before the older woman as the younger wandered off to dance. She smiled and dipped her head in agreement to whatever he was saying. The scene brought a glimmer of joy to Luke’s otherwise dour mood. Turning, he started for the refreshment table in the next room when the shimmer of an emerald gown hooked his gaze, drawing it toward a red-haired beauty across the dance floor.

Cassandra
… Miss Channing.

What was she doing here? Had she found someone else to escort her? Jealousy twisted in his gut. She stood beside Marianne and Miss Rose, the trio of heads drawn together in some covert feminine scheme. Her burgundy-colored hair fell in ringlets around her neck and sparkled like garnets when she moved. Mesmerized by the sight of her, Luke forgot where he’d been going. Then she turned and glanced across the room as if looking for someone. Her eyes met his and her smile faded. He lifted his empty glass toward her in a salute as Miss Rose leaned and whispered something in her ear. Marianne grinned, and Miss Channing turned her back to Luke once again.

What was he thinking? Of course she’d found another escort. She was a beautiful woman who possessed manners and charm and intelligence and courage.

And the kindest heart he’d ever known.

With a huff, he turned and slipped through the door into the next room in search of two things: Noah and a drink. The sooner he aided his friend in getting rid of Mr. Snyder, the sooner Luke could leave this ostentatious ball and head toward the tavern where he belonged. So much for his promise to Biron. He found Noah standing next to the man in question—Mr. Snyder—who was relaying some lavish tale to the mayor, General Smith, and two other councilmen. Noah gave Luke a nod to carry out the plan they’d spoken of earlier.

Selecting a glass of wine from the oblong refreshment table set against the wall, Luke reached for the bottle of laudanum inside his coat pocket and poured a hefty amount into the glass. He handed it to Noah, who handed it to Mr. Snyder. Three glasses later, the man had not slowed a breath in his fervent speech. Finally, the mayor made some excuse to leave, and the party broke up. Mr. Snyder, with a barely perceivable stumble, made his way to Miss Rose across the room. Cassandra stood beside her.

Much to her apparent dismay, Mr. Snyder grabbed Miss Rose’s arm and dragged her into the other room toward the dance floor where a Virginia reel was just beginning. Noah and the ladies followed, leaving Luke with no recourse but to join them. Not that he minded. Though Miss Channing would not grace him with even a glance, Luke relished their close proximity.

Taking his wife’s arm, Noah swung about and faced Miss Channing. “If you would honor Mr. Heaton with a dance, Cassandra, it will help us keep an eye on Snyder.”

Luke started to protest, not wanting the woman to be forced to taint herself with his touch, but she agreed before he could utter a word.

“For Rose,” she said and lifted her gloved hand.

An unavoidable grin on his face, Luke placed it within the crook of his elbow. He must thank Noah later.

Her hand was stiff on his arm as he led her to a spot in the line of women and took his position across from her. The music began and the couples bowed toward each other then stepped together. “I can see how it pains you to be close to me.” Looping his elbow through hers, he swung her about.

“I will endure it for my friend’s sake.” Her voice was as sharp as glass.

They retreated and waited as the head couple sashayed down the
middle of the line. “How noble.” He gave her a spurious grin.

She pursed her lips and lifted her chin. “What would you know of nobility?”

The couples surrounding them began to stare.

Infernal woman.
They came together again at the head of the line. Luke lifted his hand, but she hovered hers atop his as if she loathed to touch him. He escorted her down the line of dancers. “About as much as you know of forgiveness, miss.”

Her eyes narrowed into shards of emerald. She opened her mouth to say something when beside them, Mr. Snyder emitted an odd giggle and began to sway. All eyes shot toward Rose as she attempted to keep the man from falling.

Disappointment weighted Luke’s shoulders. The laudanum had worked too soon. Yet what did it matter? His conversation with Miss Channing had been nothing but an exchange of insults. She turned to her friend, her rigid features of only a moment ago softening as she helped Rose and Mr. Snyder from the floor. Noah gave an approving nod to Luke.

Mr. Snyder took up a harried pace through the press of people, nudging them aside as he went and sputtering words in some sort of tirade. Finally, collapsing into a chair, he lowered his head into his hands.

Critical whispers collected behind fans, riding upon looks of repugnance. Finally the butler at the front door announced the entrance of a new actor to this mad play. “Mr. Alexander Reed.”

Everyone’s heads swerved.

Including Miss Rose, who stumbled backward in shock. Mr. Snyder slumped to the ground. Luke dashed to him, pulling him up by one arm while Noah grabbed the other.

Miss Rose, her brow lined with concern, leaned over her unconscious escort.

“He’ll be all right, Miss Rose.” Luke winked. “He just needs to sleep it off.” Then, with great difficulty, he and Noah dragged the councilman through the parting crowd, out into the gardens, up the stairs, and into a room they’d previously purchased.

“Heavy old bugger.” Noah chuckled as they deposited Mr. Snyder on the bed and swung his feet up on the coverlet. “That should hold him for a couple hours.” Noah slapped his hands together.

“I still don’t see why you’re doing this for that British lieutenant.”
Luke stared at the drooling councilman.

“Miss Rose seems to find favor in the man. Besides, he’s going back to his ship tonight.”

“To terrorize and murder more Americans?” Luke growled. “We could be hanged for allowing him to escape.” Even as he said it, he realized his own hypocrisy.

“Aye, I realize that.” Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “But there’s nothing to be done for it. It would break Rose’s heart. Besides, Mr. Reed is an honorable man who regrets his part in this war.”

Luke gazed at Mr. Snyder. “Honor. A quality sorely lacking in the councilman.”

The two men left the room, closing the door tight, and returned to the ballroom. Upon seeing Marianne, Noah excused himself, leaving Luke alone once again. He scanned the room but saw no sign of Cassandra. It was just as well. He had no desire to see her in another man’s arms.

Turning to leave, Luke nearly ran into Mr. Crane, his face an expanding mass of red angst.

“How dare you, sir?”

“How dare I, what?” Luke huffed and raised a brow.

Mr. Crane’s lips twisted in disgust. “How dare you escort Miss Channing to this ball and then abandon her.” He jerked his head to the left, and Luke glanced over to see the object of their discussion, standing along the back wall, forlornly watching the dancers float across the floor. Oddly, Biron stood beside her.

Luke longed for a drink. “I neither escorted her, sir, nor abandoned her.”

Mr. Crane’s face crumbled. “Then, why is she here? Why are
you
here?”

“As to the first, you may ask her yourself. As to the second, I shall remedy that immediately.” Luke dipped his head to the shorter man and brushed past him and out the door.

Cassandra eyed the weathered seaman beside her. As soon as he had approached, she recognized him as Mr. Heaton’s first mate. “Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Abbot?”

“Aye, I am, miss,” he said. “I don’t attend functions like this very often, but I was finally able to purchase a suit to wear from my earnings aboard
Destiny
.”